


All signs lead to you.

by TrileBeemer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deaf Dean, Deaf Dean Winchester, Florist Castiel, Homeless Dean, Homeless Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrileBeemer/pseuds/TrileBeemer
Summary: Castiel Novak; Florist, business owner, concerned neighbor.Dean Winchester; Homeless, musician, Deaf.Castiel has seen Dean around town, betting at pool, and playing music on the streets. He's taken an interest in the panhandling man.





	1. Chapter 1

Sliding a key into the knob, he unlocked the shop door. A light green plaque, that read “Bee-utiful Blooms”, clanked as he pushed the door open. A plume of sweet smelling fragrance hit his nose and he smiled. The space was filled with potted plants, cut flowers, and little seedlings trying to sprout. He greeted all of the plants, lightly grazing his fingertips against leaves and petals in a hello. He unbuttoned his pea coat and pulled off his pub cap, rustling his already messy black hair.

Castiel owned a quaint little flower shop in downtown. It wasn’t very busy besides when major events came up, such as Valentine’s Day or Prom. He enjoyed it though, he loved setting up bouquets and preening his plants. Castiel got to live in his own little bit of paradise, just him and his flora. Not that it didn’t get lonely at times, but he couldn’t complain. Plus, he had the convenience of living right above in a loft.

After watering and checking up on all of his potted plants, making sure all the lights were aimed correctly, he peered out the window. It had started to snow while he was working, lightly dusting the street and parked cars, the first snowfall of the season. Castiel’s lips twitched downwards. Just like his plants, he didn’t thrive very well in the winter. Everything was freezing and wet, his nose would turn red, and the worst was when he would get a clump of snow down the back of his shoe. During this season he mostly stayed inside surrounded by his plants and a few heating lamps. Indulging in books and a warm cup of coffee.

Scanning the street he saw a man sitting on a milk crate, guitar in hand. His head tilted downwards as he strummed the instrument. The man had the collar of his leather coat popped up to try and block the wind and snow. There was a tin sitting next to his boots, and a few people dropped some change in as they passed. 

He had seen the guy a few times, playing on the street or in the bars, wagering at pool. Which he seemed to win every time. From what Castiel could tell, he was a handsome guy. He had a rugged look about him, plaid flannels and boots mostly. Legs that bowed out as he would stride down the street. Hair that was tuft up at the front that Castiel wanted to run his hand through. Maybe he had checked out the mystery guy a few times from afar.

The interesting part was that Castiel was pretty sure the guy was homeless. There was a black Chevy that drove into town about a month ago and often it hung around downtown. Wherever the car was the man wasn’t far out of sight. Often times it would be parked near the flower shop overnight, and he knew that the guy wasn’t living in any of the lofts around there. Also, there weren’t any motels nearby.

The rest of the day was spent setting up arrangements for a few pick ups, balancing his books, and doing some winter cleaning. Bobby came in to pick up some flowers for his wife Ellen for her birthday. They owned the Roadhouse a few miles away, the local bar and restaurant that everyone drank at. He made small talk with Castiel before he turned around to look at the Impala parked outside.

“That boy out there causin’ you any problems?” Bobby leaned against the counter, his voice gruff.

Castiel hummed in question before he looked up to see the musician he was talking about. “Oh no, he’s just been sitting out there playing for a few hours now. He hasn’t provoked anything.” 

Bobby grunted. “He’s got a mouth on him sometimes when he comes into the Roadhouse. Gets all the drunks riled up. ‘Spose that may not all be on him though.”

“Do you know anything about him?” He noted the snow was now accumulating on the sidewalks.

“Not a damn thing.”

“I think he’s homeless, Bobby. I’m almost positive he sleeps in his car.”

“That’d make a helluva lot of sense. Well, you let me know if he brings any trouble to you. Ellen and I will be down here with shotguns.” Bobby arranged the cap on his head again.

Castiel laughed and thanked him, handing him his flowers and watched him bundle up before he walked out of the store.

After Castiel had locked up the store for the day and settled himself upstairs in his apartment, he nestled on his couch. He had a cup of coffee on the table in front of him and an oversized comforter wrapped around him like a cocoon. The TV was casting coloured, flickering lights across the room and he was starting to doze off after a few episodes. 

He moved his mass of bedding and began to shuffle to his bedroom. Passing by one of the windows, he peered out, seeing that same car where it was before. The black sheen of paint was covered in snow. If it was cold in his home, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like outside.

_____

Castiel tapped on the frosted over window, the cup of coffee the only thing keeping his hands warm. He hadn’t thought to grab gloves as he rushed out the door, trying not to overthink what he was doing. He heard a rustle from inside, the car bouncing slightly from the shifting weight. The back door popped open slightly.

“Can I help you?” The man ran a hand over his face, looking a bit exhausted and confused. He was bundled up with a hat and scarf.

“I just...I’ve seen…” Cas swallowed hard, trying to push down his nervousness. “It’s cold as frozen over hell out here and I’d figured you could use something warm.” He quickly spit out the words while jutting forward the coffee cup.

The guy blinked a few times at the man’s hand before his brows furrowed together in confusion. He looked up at Cas before slowly reaching out for the cup.

“Thanks?” He didn’t take a drink, he just looked up at Castiel, his eyes squinted. They stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence. “Anything else I can help you with, man?”

Castiel’s cheeks were tinted red from the cold, along with the embarrassment that he didn’t plan this out terribly well. His voice got choked up in his throat once again, he cleared it before blurting out.

“Would you like to grab something to eat? It’s freezing out here and it can’t be terribly warm in your car. I’ll pay for you if that’s an issue. I’ve just seen you on the sidewalk and I just wanted to help. Of course, if I’m over stepping…” Castiel’s words came out quickly and he tried not to stumble over his own tongue.

“Slow down there. You’ve got a streetlight right behind you, so I can’t read your lips that well. That all just came out as a jumbled mess to me.” He shifted to stand up out of the car. Awkwardly, he shrugged on a leather coat before standing next to the other man.

Castiel brows furrowed together as he tilted his head. Reading his lips? Why would he have to that? And what was that accent?

“Alright, so what were you asking?” He took a drink of the coffee, and it noticeably had a calming effect as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Why do you have to read lips?” He blurted out, his curiosity taking over.

A slight laugh escaped the guy, it was a mixture of amusement and bitterness. “I’m Deaf, buddy. Those sounds coming out of your mouth, they ain’t reachin’ me.” He waited for a response, his arms now crossed along his chest.

“Oh.” Slipped past Castiel lips. He had a swarm of questions bumbling in his head. Instead of releasing all of them at once, he pointed to the guy, then himself, and pinched his five fingers together and tapped out his mouth. A sign he thought he remembered that meant ‘food’.

The guy raised an eyebrow and full out laughed. “You asking me on a date here? But I don’t even know your name.”

Castiel fumbled to remember what little sign language he had learned in his community college, he had mostly taken it just for the credit and was now regretting not furthering his education. He curled his hand to make a ‘C’ and then spelled out the rest of his name agonizingly slowly. 

The guy just watched as Castiel struggled, but made no move to help him out.

“I appreciate the effort, but you can just talk. I can read your lips just fine, “Cesnial”. Which, I'm gonna say isn't your name and you need to brush up on your alphabet.” He bit his lip as he tried not to laugh.

Castiel dropped his head briefly before lifting it to look at the man. He noticed how the street light shined over his face. Showing the freckled band across his cheeks. 

“Castiel.” 

“Castiel.” He repeated, “That's still a pretty strange name. Here, this is how you'd spell it.” He showed how he had misplaced his thumb while signing.

Castiel mimicked the spelling slowly and then grunted an ‘okay’.

“I'm Dean.” He spelled his name out since they seemed to be having an impromptu ASL class on the sidewalk. “So, what were you saying about food?”

____

Dean had agreed to go to a diner nearby with Castiel, a little confused why a stranger would invite him out. But Castiel assured him that he just wanted to get to know him and had seen him around town.

They sat over plates of burgers and made idle talk with a few awkward silences filling the gaps.

“How do you play guitar if you can't hear it?” Castiel took a bite of his food.

“I used to play when I was younger, when I could hear.” He paused as if he was caught up in nostalgia. “I can feel the vibrations, I remember the chords. It all still speaks to me in its own way.” 

“You weren't always deaf?” 

“No.” Dean left it at that and Castiel didn't pry.

“You're the one that owns that floral shop, right? The one with the cheesy name.” Dean looked up across the table.

“Yes, and it's not cheesy, it's “puny”.” Castiel said defensively, putting air quotes around the last word.

Dean laughed. “Whatever you say. I can see you being at home there.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel tilted his head.

“Just an observation. I'm Deaf remember? I pick up on these things, it's like a superpower.” What Dean didn't add in was that he noticed how graceful Castiel moved. How when he picked up a french fry it even seemed elegant. He maintained eye contact, but it wasn't a harsh stare. It was soft, despite the sharpness of glaciers in his eyes. How Dean could see him blending in naturally with the smooth petals, and maybe wanted to see if his skin felt the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some language/slurs in this chapter, but it's pretty light.
> 
> PolyWinchester on Tumblr

A few days had passed since the diner. Castiel was still in his usual routine, nestling into his greenhouse of a store. When Dean would pass by Bee-utiful Blooms he would wave and smile before setting up his milk crate across the street.

On this particular day, Castiel had gotten all of his plant preening done early and was leaning against the counter. His arms folded with head settled on top. He was watching Dean as he strummed on his guitar. His hands were wrapped in fingerless gloves and he was bundled up in his leather coat and scarf. 

Castiel was too busy taking in how Dean’s leg bounced to the music he couldn’t hear, that he didn’t notice the figure that was walking to the front door.

“Hello, Castiel.” A voice jerked Castiel out of his reverie and he noticed the doorbell was also jingling.

He quickly stood and looked up to see an older gentleman with long silvering hair and beard.

“Cain.” He greeted. “It's good to see you. What can I help you with?” He brushed his hands down his cardigan that had rumpled from his slouching.

“I just came by to see if you needed more honey for your store or yourself.” He pulled out a few jars of golden nectar and sat them on the counter.

“Thank you. I can never say no.” He gathered up a few mason jars and sat them on a shelf where his stock was dwindling.

Cain had a small farm on the outskirts of town where he kept beehives and also maintained a gorgeous garden of flowers and vegetables.

Often on warm spring days, the two would sit out in the yard on lounge chairs. Watching the bees humming about, pollinating the flowers and buzzing back to the hive to make more honey. They would talk horticulture, comparing notes, and stories. Sometimes they would just sit in silence, listening to the wind rake over the leaves, birds fluttering from branch to branch. Just enjoying the calm. 

Castiel loved those days he got to spend away from the small town, just enveloped in nature. It was even better when Cain would send him home with an armful of seeds and freshly transferred flowers. 

“What has you so cheery today?” Cain asked.

Castiel perked his head up and looked back over to the older man. “What do you mean?”

“You had this delighted look on your face while you were looking out the window.” As he said that, he turned his head to see exactly what had caught Castiel’s gaze.

“Oh. That's a fine looking man.” 

Castiel swore he heard a chuckle when he spoke, was that even a sparkle in his eye?

“Tell me about this one.” It was as if a father was urging his son to tell him about his newly developed crush.

“It's nothing, Cain. I hardly know him.” Castiel brushed off the question with a wave of his hand.

Cain made a disbelieving hum, but didn't press the matter. 

“Don’t hide inside too much this season. Come and join me at the farm, we’ll have dinner some night. I’ve got a fine bottle of wine waiting. Take care, Castiel.” As Cain walked out of the store, Castiel’s eyes drifted back to Dean. He tried his best not to stare too much for the rest of the day.

After closing up the store later that night Castiel decided to stop by the Roadhouse to grab a beer. Cain was right, since it had gotten so cold out, he had been spending most of his time inside. The change of scenery and actual human interaction could do him some good, he figured. Saddling up to the bar on a tall stool, he gave Ellen a small wave. Without even asking, she poured him a tall drink and clanked it down on the counter.

“Hey there, hon.” The older woman said with a bit of a drawl. “I'll come get yer order in a minute. I've got a table of rowdy boys over there and I swear if I'm not about to slap them over their heads.” Ellen stormed off in the direction of the group of men roaring with laughter and slamming their beer glasses on the table. “Don’t you be breaking any of those!” She shouted at them.

Castiel sipped at his beer and scanned the bar for familiar faces. Looking over he saw Dean at the pool tables. He was leaned over with the pool cue lined up to make the shot. With a firm stroke he landed a ball in the hole. Dean stood and held up his arms victoriously and the man he was playing with started to argue with him. 

“What's fair is fair.” Castiel heard him exclaim cheerfully, watching him snatch up a bill that was on the edge of the table and pocket it with a smirk on his face. 

Ellen walked over to Castiel and was about to ask what he wanted to eat when she noticed what had his attention.

“The boys here gamble a bit much for my liking, but there's worse things they could be doing I suppose. They know better than to get on my bad side.”

“Not Bobby’s?” Castiel crooked his head to the side.

“That man is a teddy bear with a beard. Ain't nobody scared of his bite.”

Castiel chuckled and imagined the grizzly man not being as harsh as he tried to make himself out to be.

“What's so funny over here?” Castiel looked over to see Dean had appeared next to him. He leaned his elbow against the bar and Castiel’s eyes may have drifted a bit when he noticed Dean’s biceps stretching the fabric of his short sleeved shirt. Quickly, he turned his attention back to Ellen when she spoke.

“Boy, you better not be making any trouble under my roof.” Ellen said firmly.

“Wouldn't think of it, Ma’am.” Dean said with a lopsided smile. “Could I get another drink, please?” He sat his empty cup down on the bar.

“Haven't you had about enough?” Ellen stared him down. Her tone was motherly, but stern.

“One more and I swear it'll be my last.” He slid his money onto the table and thanked her politely when she poured straight whiskey into his cup.

Ellen took Castiel’s order and went to put it into the kitchen.

“How do you always seem to win your bets at pool?” Castiel asked. He was was acutely aware that Dean was looking at his lips a bit more intently. He figured it was because the lights in the bar were a bit dimmer and he needed to focus to be able to understand what Castiel was asking.

“Make a few shitty shots for the first game, play up the deaf thing. No one expects a dumb, deaf guy to have a chance at beating their asses. What they don’t know is that I can’t hear their bullshit, so there’s no way to distract me.” Dean had a large grin on his face, proud of himself. He made himself comfortable in a chair next to Castiel, spinning it to face him. “You’ve seen me play before?”

“I’ve stopped in a few times while you were stealing people’s money, yes.” 

“Hey, I won that money on pure talent.” Dean crossed his arms. “But you have been watching me.” He added on with a sultry look.

Castiel swore his face went completely red and he started to stutter over some words.

“I...I’m not stalking you.” He managed to get out.

Dean’s laugh bellowed out. He clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“I’m joking, man. It’s a small town, I think I’ve seen you hiding out in a corner here, too.”

“Oh, oh sure.” Castiel hid his awkwardness behind the rim of his beer.

On the other side of Dean, Castiel noticed the guy who was playing pool and one of his friends had sat down at the bar. “Fucking, deaf faggot. At least the asshole won’t be able to hear when I come over to beat his ass.” The guy started to laugh to his friend. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes. Registering what he had just heard. He looked to Dean and then behind him again and started to worry. Apparently it was transparent on his face.

“That jackass right behind me?” Dean’s voice jerked Castiel back to focus on him. He just nodded. Dean spun in his chair to face the guy. He put his elbow on the bar and leaned his head on his hand, his best attempt to look innocent. “Anything you want to tell me, Sweetheart?” Dean’s tone was cool and collected. However, the guy on the receiving end was about ready to boil over with anger. His face was turning pink and Castiel swear his nostrils were flaring as he breathed.

“Actually, I do. Who started letting retards in here?”

Dean smirked and stood up smoothly before taking a few steps forward, shoving his hands in his front pockets. “I’m not the slow one here, if you noticed, I’m the one who beat your ass in that game. You just happened to lose to a deaf guy. Which I’m so happy I am right now, because I’m pretty sure your voice is how I remember Porky Pig sounding.”

“You motherfucker.” The man clenched his jaw, hand curling into a fist.

“Mm, not yet, unless yours is available?” Dean continued pressing his buttons. With that last comment, the man started to move forward swiftly, his arm pulling back to deck Dean in the jaw. Before he could get any closer, there was Ellen grabbing him by the collar of his shirt in one hand, Castiel’s order in the other. Dean jerked back, startled that she had appeared so suddenly.

“I’ve told ya’ll not to start anything in my bar.” She was staring down Dean while she still held onto the other guy. 

Castiel was now up out of his seat. Unsure what to do, but sure that he should interject in some way, but no way was he going to talk over Ellen. Instead he stood there like a deer in a set of headlights.

“I don’t know what the hell got into you two, but you need to get out and calm down. I’m not dealing with any more children tonight.” She let go of the shirt and pointed towards the door. 

The guy glared at Dean, but barked at his friend that they were leaving. 

Castiel took a couple of steps to Dean as he watched him roll his shoulders with frustration. Turning his head he looked back at Castiel and gave him a smile. He had the urge to follow Dean out, but he raised a hand as he turned away, giving a small wave.

“See ya later, Cas.”

He watched as Dean slipped into his coat and walked out. Ellen sat his plate down in front of him.

“I don’t know what his story is, but you be careful with that one. He looks like a sweet boy, but there’s something hiding there.” With that she left him to eat his meal alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting, and leaving kudos on this! It mean quite a lot and definitely helps for my motivation on this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Dean's perspective. Dialogue in Italics is done in ASL.
> 
> Just to note, I am not involved in the Deaf community or know first hand struggles of being a Deaf individual. I am still learning about both of these. If I am horribly incorrect with anything I write, please let me know! I will gladly change it and I would love to be informed!
> 
> Thank you all for the views, comments, and Kudos! It really means a whole hell of a lot and helps me push on.  
> I'm pretty critical of my own work, but I'm pretty happy with how this piece is coming along.  
> Thank you all!!
> 
> PolyWinchester on Tumblr

He flipped the collar of his leather coat up as he walked out of the bar. Dean had no idea if Castiel had said anything to him as he turned away and tried not to storm out. Did he really call him ‘Cas’? Oh well, it was easier to say anyways.

Dean walked over to his car, fingers grazing the sleek black hood. He was still vibrating with emotion, despite his attempt to keep collected inside. He knew people talked shit about him, knew people dragged him because of his lack of hearing. Called him names and thought he was less because of his “disability”.

Opening up the door, he shoved the keys in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. The lights of the car cut through the darkness, leading him through backroads where trees curled to meet him. After awhile, the trees became sparse and there was nothing but open road with fields on either side. The night sky was crisp, moon beaming down and reflecting off of the Impala’s paint job. Dean pulled the car over, pulling her off far enough from the side of the road.

Stepping out, Dean walked around to the front and sat down. Leaning against the grill of the car. The heat still poured out of his Baby and it warmed him despite of the chill that was already gathering in his bones.

People said he was hearing impaired, disabled, that he would struggle his whole life because he didn’t have the same ability as hearing people. Dean said fuck that. He didn’t need to hear to know the feeling of the frost on the grass he was sitting on, crinkle when he shifted. He didn’t need to hear the planes roaring above to appreciate the night stars twinkling, smiling at only at him in this moment. Dean had no desire to hear the cars honking and screeching on the roads near him. Without all of the noise, he was able to just be. This was his space, his moment, there was silence, and he wouldn’t imagine it any other way.

He wasn’t less of a person because he couldn’t hear the stupid drabble that came from people’s mouths. He wasn’t handicapped because he couldn’t hear the sound pollution that filled everyone else’s lives. He didn’t need to hear to understand people, he did that perfectly fine. People sure as hell tried to make him feel that way, though.

Fuck people who said he was disabled, fuck the people who called him stupid, fuck them. 

Dean leaned against his car, looking up at the moon. His shoulders shook slightly as he rubbed at his eyes.

_____

The Impala pulled into a parking spot in the early morning hours. Dean had his heat blasting, but as the early morning progressively got colder, he couldn’t get rid the freezing feeling. There was a little coffee shop that he stopped in at a few times in the past. What better than coffee to shake the feeling of hypothermia settling in?

He swung the door open to the shop and the scent of ground coffee beans greeted him. Dean saw the barista wiping down the counter and then looked up at him and issued a greeting.

“Morning. Black coffee and one of those breakfast sandwiches. Thanks.” Dean paid the person then sat down at a table near the window, letting the beams of sunlight beat against the side of his face. Looking out the window he saw passing cars and people bundled up in coats as they ducked into shops. 

Dean had come to enjoy this town. It had been a few months since he arrived. The trees were just starting to change colours, pumpkins and gourds were displayed everywhere, when he drove in. He enjoyed how the air started to shift to take on the fallish essence. It was becoming a bit more difficult with him living in his car now that winter was rearing. The windows of his Baby would frost over at night and he couldn’t afford to leave her running for long hours. So he would have to try his best and bundle up with a wool blanket in the backseat. Plus, his fingers were starting to feel the wear of trying to play his guitar while the snow and wind bit at them. Dean had yet to go through a winter living in his car, and he had to admit that he was getting concerned if he could make it with how the weather was looking. Maybe he should had driven on to somewhere a little warmer.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the barista waving frantically at him. Turning his head, the person must have been trying to shout at him to get his attention. Dean quickly went up to grab his order, seeing the long line of customers that had formed while he was dazed.

Dean apologized for not hearing, which he thought was ironic to have to say, and took his food. The barista looked at him impatiently and then went on to take the next customer. 

Sitting back down he nibble at the food and took gulps of the bitter drink. It was enough to knock him awake a bit. He spent a good hour just relaxing inside of the warm shop, watching the people inside talk and bicker. 

There was one woman who was arguing with the barista over some drink selection as she pointedly adamantly with a stern hand. The person behind the counter tried their best to keep a smile plastered on their face, but Dean noticed how fast it was slipping with every passing remark from the woman. Dean assumed it had to be something ridiculous, like that she needed exactly ¾ foam in her drink, or that her egg sandwich should be three egg whites, from a chicken named Betty, and gluten free bread from a field in Idaho. 

Dean didn’t have a clue, he couldn’t hear it, but he had to admit that he enjoyed making up random scenarios for people around him.

There was a vibration that snagged Dean’s attention. He quickly fumbled to dig a small tracfone out of his pocket. Clicking a few buttons he saw a text light up his screen.

**Sammy - Hey, Dean. How have you been? I haven’t heard from you lately.**

He quickly typed back, a smile forming on his face. Dean had gone a little bit between texting his brother. Sadly, with little money he had, he had to try and not use all of his minutes on his phone and every text drained from that small money bank.

**Dean - Sammy! Yeah, I’ve been doing real well. Just been getting settled into the new place. They’ve been working me hard at the garage. Well worth it though. Sorry I haven’t texted you, you know how it goes.**

Maybe he was feeding some little lies to his brother. Sam didn’t know that Dean didn’t actually have a home, or a real job, or that he was travelling around the country. He didn’t need to worry over Dean’s troubles right now. Sam was busy with his own life, going to a big name college, getting himself set up for a great future. It wasn’t a big deal anyways. 

**Sammy - I was just worried about you. Glad that things are going well. You should come visit soon. I met this great girl, Eileen. She’s Deaf. We hit it off really well and I think you’d like her.**

Dean beamed as he read that last text. Sam wasn’t Deaf, but when Dean lost his hearing at the age of thirteen, Sam wasted no time in finding a way to communicate with his brother and delving into his world. It first had started with signs they had made up themselves, almost like charades in a way. Soon, they learned about American Sign Language. They both quickly became fluent, but the personal signs stuck. Dean always appreciated that Sam was eager to learn his language. He had heard stories about families who refused to learn and would force their children to assimilate into their world. Sam didn’t even bother with speaking, knowing that it was easier to just use their hands.

Even Dean’s parents, even though devastated that their oldest was now incapable of what they considered to be a basic human ability, took up learning sign. Their mother, Mary, was patient, helping the boys learn ASL and even taking them to Deaf events. Hoping he could meet others around his age. Dean and Sam ended up making a few friends in the Deaf community and it definitely helped Dean not feel so alone in his struggle.

John, even though he learned, he believed that it would be good for Dean to still know how to talk and read lips. It was frustrating at first, reading lips was more of a guessing game than an actual science. There were many conversations that went terribly wrong due to Dean seeing the words wrong. It had taken even longer for Dean to be confident in his voice. It was easier, since he wasn’t Deaf since birth, but he knew that his voice was coming out differently now. With an accent. That had made him incredibly self-conscious. But with Sam’s help, Dean started to talk more openly and was able to communicate with most hearing people without them making a fuss.

When Dean saw that Sam was seeing a Deaf girl, he had to admit that he was ecstatic and was looking forward to meeting her.

**Dean - That’s great to hear, Sammy. I’ll have to make a trip there soon. Take care and get a damn haircut already, Bitch.**

**Sam - Jerk.**

Dean pocketed his phone and sipped on his coffee. He regretted not telling Sam what was going on in his life, but he really thought it was for the best. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open and he looked over to see a guy in a peacoat and a pub hat. A set of blue eyes and lines of sleep under them, looked back at him.

Castiel waved at him with a small smile and held up a finger to tell him ‘one moment’. Ordering his drink, he sat down across from Dean after he paid.

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment before he cupped both of his downwards, making an upside down ‘W’ and then curling it upward and pointing at Dean after.

_“How are you?”_

Dean had to admit he was a little shocked. Not a lot of hearing people bothered to sign to him once they knew that he could talk and read lips. It was just easier for them.

_“Fine. Thanks. I didn’t scare you after the bar incident, did I?”_

Castiel held up his hands for Dean to stop. 

“I only had time to learn a few basic signs. I only understood ‘fine’ and ‘thank you’ in that sentence.” He hung his head almost a bit ashamed after he spoke.

Dean let out a laugh. He figured Castiel hadn’t learned enough to have a whole conversation, but he had to pick on him a bit.

“I know, I was just giving you shit. I appreciate you even knowing a little bit, though. I asked if I had scared you at the bar? I know I got a little worked up there.” Dean ruffled a hand through his hair.

“No, it made sense for you to be upset about the rudeness of that man.”

“I mean, I’d say it was a little bit more than rude.”

“You understand what I mean, Dean. No, you did not “scare” me.” Castiel used air quotations with his fingers making sure that he understood. Dean gave a huff of a laugh.

The barista sat Castiel drink on the table and gave him a small smile as he shuffled away.

“Well, I have to open up the shop for the day. Take care, Dean.” Castiel stood up and gave a warm smile.

“See ya, Cas.”


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas was bounding around the corner, and Bee-utiful Blooms was bursting with Christmas arrangements. The shelves were lined with poinsettias, candy cane lilies, all sorts of red and white flowers arranged in eye catching ways. There were even a few small evergreen trees that Castiel had decorated with ornaments, and a couple of them flocked with fake snow. Because for some reason people love getting the obnoxious white dusting all over their living areas.

Castiel was in the back of the store, trimming up stems and setting flowers into a large vase for a personalized order, when the bell for the front door chimed.

“Hello! Give me a moment, I’ll be up in a minute to help you.” Castiel hollered to the customer.

He looked down to see that his apron was covered in loose leaves and bits of flower petals. Fingers sticky from plant food. Castiel tried wiping the stray pieces of flowers off of him, but everything still stuck to him. With a frustrated grunt, he untied the apron, flinging it near the dirty linens bin and washing off his hands. He wiped his hands off on a rag and tucked it in his back pocket.

Walking back up front Castiel looked around for whoever came in. At first it didn’t appear that anyone was there, but out of the corner he saw someone sitting on their haunches. Noticing the leather coat wrapped around them, Castiel quickly realized it was Dean. The other man was looking attentively at the flowers that sat on a lower shelf. Usually less flashy blooms were set there, mostly filler plants. Dean eyes were set on sprigs of Baby’s Breathe. Fingers grazing softly over the tiny buds.

Castiel walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to get Dean’s attention. Dean whipped his head around quickly with wide eyes. There looked like there was a glimpse of fear on his face before it was quickly melded into a lopsided grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean looked up at the other man, pulling his hand away from the flowers and pushing himself to his feet.

“Hello, Dean. What are you doing here?” Castiel tilted his head. He hadn’t seen too much of the panhandling musician lately. With the snow and ice coming down regularly, Dean wasn’t playing his guitar as much on the side of the road. With hardly any foot traffic there wasn’t much of a point in it. Cas was busy with his shop and all of the orders rolling in. So, seeing Dean came as a bit of a surprise.

“I realized I had been passing by this place for awhile, but never stepped inside. Now I know why you smell so fragrant all the time.” Dean let out a low chuckle. 

Castiel squinted at the comment. Dean knew what he smelled like? It must be a more attuned sense to him. Does he really always smell like flowers?

Dean coughed a bit before rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve got a lot of angels…” He made a face as he looked around the shop.

Castiel looked around at the little angels that dangled from the ceiling. He didn't quite see how they could be overwhelming in numbers to someone. No one had ever commented on them before, and it was common place for Cas around the holidays. They made him feel comfortable. Surrounded by tiny artificial warriors, some which had rosey cheeks and looked more adorable than intimidating.

There were even a few trees and flower arrangements that figurines were tucked into.

Castiel hadn't so much decorated for Christmas as he did a giant angel alter.

Dean nodded towards a large angel statue that sat on a shelf surrounded by honeysuckle. 

“Why does he look so pissed and...like he’s plotting something?” Dean took a few steps closer and squinted to get a better look. “Wait is that a mustache?”

Dean turned to look at Cas to see him almost glaring at the statuette.

“That angel is Gabriel. He’s an Archangel, and a Messenger. My brother’s name is also Gabriel. He bought it for me and thought it would be funny to draw that on there...along with glueing small penises on it. Those I was able to remove. Anytime I washed off the marker he would just redraw it, so I gave up.” Castiel’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Dean chuckled “Is Castiel an angel name, too?”

“It is. The angel of Thursday, of travel and change. Sometimes he’s even said to be the angel of solitude and tears.”

“That last bit doesn't seem depressing at all.” Dean stared at Cas with his eyebrow arched.

“I can't say that solitude isn't something I enjoy, but I haven't cried since yesterday.”

Dean's arched eyebrow stay quirked as he tried to figure out if Cas was being sarcastic. But Castiel's face didn’t crack from his solemn expression he usually wore.

Seeing Dean’s eyes flit over his face, trying to pick up any cues of humor, Castiel huffed a sigh.

“I was joking, Dean. About crying, that is.” Castiel knew his sense of humor didn't quite cross over to funny for most people.

Dean gave an awkward chuckle. “So, we're your parents religious then?” Dean brushed his hand over the back of his neck.

“Neither, actually. My parents were just attracted to the names. When I was older I learned they were angelic names. I started reading about them, and I may have become slightly intrigued with the stories. I read them more like works of fiction, but the idea of celestial beings as big as a Chrysler building that can smite and protect, it’s rather amazing.”

“Yeah, I can see you got a bit smitten with the idea.” Dean twirled his finger towards the ceiling, gesturing to the tiny army.

“Gabriel says they're ‘tacky’”. There was a light blush that creeped onto his cheeks as he looked up at the little dangling angels.

“He's not wrong, but they're kind of cute, too. Especially, that little fat one.” Dean pointed up at a chubby cherub with a blushing bottom.

Castiel gave out a little laugh at Dean's choice.

There was an obnoxious shrill ringing from an old corded phone behind the counter. Castiel looked towards it and back to Dean.

“Excuse me, the phone's ringing. It was good talking with you Dean.” Cas smiled politely.

“You too, Cas. I'll see you around.”

Dean walked to the door as Castiel picked up the phone.

“Bee-utiful Blooms. How can I help you?”

Castiel readied his writing pad as the customer began to fill an order. The front door chimed as Dean stepped out. Castiel glanced up to watch Dean walk away, but instead he saw him flailing to the ground. Along with an ineloquent screech and thud.

“I'm sorry, could you call back at a later time?” Without waiting for a response, Castiel hung up and rushed over to Dean. He was sprawled out in the snow, but started to get to his knees and was letting out pained grunts as he moved. Castiel kneeled next to him.

“Dean! Are you alright?”

Dean was on his hands and knees as he tried to gather what happened. His head was spinning and he saw a small puddle of red form in the snow beneath him. Lifting his hand up to his face, he smeared the blood under his nose. He moved to sit back on his knees.

“I think I missed a step there, Cas.” 

“Dean, there are no steps.”

Castiel pulled the rag out of his pocket and held it out for Dean to take so that he wouldn't bleed all over his own clothes.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”  
______

Dean leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling, with tissues sticking out of his nostrils.

“You've got a real nice place here, Cas.” Dean waited a minute. “Since I can't hear you or see you, I'm just going to assume you said thank you.... So, you're welcome.”

Cas chuckled as he looked over at Dean who was just kicking his feet back and forth on the high barstool. He looked like a child that had picked a fight on the playground. His deaf accent, combined with the nasally sound that was caused by the tissue was just too adorable.

Dean had busted his nose and lip. Along with a small bruise on his cheek. Castiel felt awful for not salting the sidewalk well enough. 

After wrapping some ice in a rag, he tapped Dean on the shoulder. Once the other man was facing him, he instructed him to hold the ice to his lip. 

“Why are ya helping me, Cas?”

“Dean, you were bleeding all over the sidewalk in front of my store. That's a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“That's an idea. My brother’s going to be a lawyer after all.” Dean plucked out the bloody tissue and disposed of it.

Castiel rolled his eyes, knowing Dean was joking.

“You have a brother?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sammy.” Dean made a motion with his hand as he said his brother’s name. 

“Where is he?”

“He's in his senior year at Stanford. Really smart kid.”

“Does he know that you're….” Castiel paused, he didn't want to seem rude by calling out Dean on his lack of housing.

“Homeless? No. Sam’s got this big, bright future in front of him. He doesn't need to be worrying about me. Besides, I'm not homeless because I'm forced to be. I like travelling around the country. Get to see all sorts of things. Meet interesting people.” Dean smirked as he looked at Cas, but it seemed a bit strained.

“What was that sign you used before, when you said your brother’s name?” Castiel asked, changing the subject and diverting any attention away from the heat creeping onto his face.

Dean repeated the sign. A ‘S’ that started near his forehead and dropped down to his shoulders.

“It's his name sign.” Dean moved his hands to also say ‘name sign’. “The kid has really long hair. So, I sign long hair, which is this.” He curved his hand to a ninety degree angle and placed it near his head like before and moved it down. “But for him I just make an ‘S’ and do the same thing.” Dean repeated Sam’s name sign. “Seriously, the kid needs a haircut.”

Castiel watched, intrigued by the idea. “A name sign is just like a nickname?”

“Pretty much. It's something that someone in the Deaf community gives you when they really get to know you.”

Castiel realized that Dean never really signed around him. A twinge of guilt hit him in the chest. Since Dean could talk, that's how they communicated. He disliked that he didn't get to see Dean’s language often and he wondered how that made Dean feel. To not speak the way that was natural for him at this point.

“Dean, if you would want, you can sign around me. I'd like to learn your language.”

Dean stared at him for a moment. Confusion on his face as he read Cas’ lips. Then he smiled warmly.

“Yeah, buddy. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's been reading this so far. I meant to have this chapter out by the end of December. But I had huge life events that happened, and honestly my depression has been in overdrive.  
> But I finally finished this one!  
> I'm hoping with this new job of doing nothing I'll be more motivated to write.


End file.
